Charlie Parr and Mikkel revisit their West Bank folk days

**Mikkel and Charlie Parr at The Midway Saloon, 2021**

I went to my first Charlie Parr show in 2018, so I’m a relatively new fan to an artist who’s been a mainstay of the Minnesota (and beyond) music scene for decades. But I’ve seen him over a dozen times since and never miss an opportunity if I can help it.

So when Mikkel — an exceptional washboardist who frequently accompanies Parr as well as many other artists and groups in the Twin Cities — soft-announced a show on Facebook, I knew I had to go. He’d already done this a time or two during the pandemic — I saw him and Parr play in an empty lot, then Mikkel and guitarist Mike Munson in someone’s front yard. This time it was an actual indoor show at the Midway Saloon in Saint Paul with a limit of 40 attendees.

My First Experience with Parr & Mikkel

I wasn’t entirely sold at that 2018 show — I was still cautiously testing the waters outside of pure old-time country music, and Parr has more of a country-folk-blues vibe — but his voice and playing (an impossibly fast two-finger picking technique, often on a resonator guitar) were striking.

It was at the Palace Theatre in Saint Paul, and the large venue was packed with people who were clearly familiar with his music. He was joined on stage for part of the show by some of the revolving cast of musicians he plays with when he’s not playing solo. I’d end up seeing these artists a lot over the next few years, especially Mikkel, who’s so phenomenal and so ubiquitous on the Twin Cities Americana scene, my wife and I often joke that the washboards hung from the ceiling at Palmer’s Bar in Minneapolis are trophies from vanquished washboardists who attempted to best him.

And I’d get to know Parr’s a capella rendition of “Ain’t No Grave” well. The first time I heard it, the massive Palace Theatre went silent as Parr put his guitar away and leaned toward the microphone. Except for stomping, clapping, and a few whistles and cheers, the throng was hushed and enthralled as he belted the traditional gospel song in an impassioned shout. How he digs that deep while seated (he always performs sitting down) I’ll never understand.

Whenever I bring someone new to one of his shows I cross my fingers that he’ll do it as his final encore, which he usually does. It’s impossible not to be blown away by it.

What’s Normal Anymore?

Fast forward to March 2021. This show had that speakeasy feel that several pandemic concerts have had — money and information exchanged on Venmo, a tromp through an icy field to an unmarked back door, a verbal confirmation from staff that we were here for the show.

I’ve been to a few shows in the past year, but all except one have been outdoors. (The only indoor one was very special.) Oh, there was that one outdoor concert where I sat in Palmer’s Bar by an open door, finishing a drink, when the show was interrupted by a sudden rainstorm. Other than that, I hadn’t been at a bar in nearly a year.

But, masks and social distancing aside, the strangest thing was how foreign yet familiar regular bar activity felt to me. Hearing chatter from the bar-side during songs. People wandering to and from the bathroom. Glasses clinking and beer taps whooshing as the bartenders worked. I couldn’t believe this had been such a normal and intrinsic part of my life at one point.

It was of course a bittersweet and pale imitation of the old normal, as I tugged my mask strap off one ear to hastily suck up some whiskey-Diet before putting it back on, and politely tried to lean away from another audience member who wanted to talk to me without her mask on. What was familiar then felt strange now, and what’s familiar now felt strange in the context of a bar.

**Charlie Parr at The Midway Saloon, 2021**

A Unique Walk Down Memory Lane

But it was worth it to see Charlie and Mikkel, working together as smoothly as always, giving each other cues with their eyes and nods of their heads.

The show differed from the usual Parr show for another reason: He and Mikkel were doing it in remembrance of a weekly Tuesday night residency they used to have at the now-defunct Viking Bar on the West Bank (the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood of Minneapolis). Back then (Mikkel couldn’t remember if it started in 1999 or 2000), they did a lot of old folk and blues covers — not wildly out of line with what Parr plays now, but since I didn’t know most of them, the material felt fresh and new.

The songs were a little bluesier, a little grimier than Parr’s more recent work. Mikkel worked his washboard both in the normal way and on his lap with brushes, sometimes accompanied by a foot drum or tambourine. He occasionally played a familiar hexagonal wooden drum which, on closer inspection, I realized for the first time was a drinks tray. Even my husband, an avowed hip hop head, enjoyed Mikkel’s innovative percussion, which was in the pocket yet managed to feel loose and improvisational and fun.

As always, Parr was on point — his voice rough around the edges but tuneful and full of soul. When I got up to film a song, not knowing what they were about to play, I was delighted that it was Mississippi John Hurt’s “Let the Mermaids Flirt With Me.” It’s the inspiration for a different song of the same name by one of my favorite current artists, Logan Ledger, and Parr’s version distinctly reminded me of a song by Jimmie Rodgers (one of my favorite musicians period).

It’s hard to find words to describe two performers who are so consistently good, there’s not a ton of variation from one show to another. I’ve seen them play in front of thousands at the Palace and First Ave, and I’ve been one of about a dozen audience members at a semi-secret Sunday afternoon show at the 331 Club. Their performance is tailored to the needs of the venue, but their quality never wavers — nor does their obvious delight in playing, especially with one another.

The audience at the Midway was sparse, as intended, but the sustained applause after each song sounded loud in my ears. Whether it really was, or whether the pandemic has just made me more sensitive to sound, I hope it sounded loud to Parr and Mikkel too.

As their fans cheered for more than a minute after the last song, Parr appeared to think it over, then set his guitar in its case and put his hand over his midsection — something he always does when singing “Ain’t No Grave,” as if giving his diaphragm some extra support during what must be a taxing song.

We in the audience stomped and clapped a rhythm for the first half, then just sat in blissful silence for the rest of it. It’s always a defiant, triumphant song, but as we gathered in a bar in (hopefully) the end throes of the pandemic, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who thought about the coronavirus instead of death when listening to it this time:

When you hear that trumpet sound

Gonna get up out the ground

Ain’t no grave gonna hold my body down.

Carol Roth is a full-time marketing copywriter and the main music journalist and social media publicist for Adventures in Americana. In addition to studying the guitar and songwriting, Carol’s additional creative side hustle is writing self-proclaimed “trashy” novels under the pseudonym @taberkeley!

Show Review: Charlie Parr & Mikkel at Midway Saloon

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